Author's Notes: If you're only reading part of this, or if you start reading it and then lose interest, feel free to drop me a line and let me know why-pacing, characters not engaging your interest, dislike of OC's, etc. Thanks!
Okay, by now you've probably figured out that my notes don't necessarily relate to the chapter at hand. Here, I'll remind you that the story is available in Word format for those who comment and would like to get it that way. Also, it seems obvious to me that distance in the FFVII world is a matter of convenience. (As evidenced by the time it takes to travel to the Ancient City in the game vs. Advent Children. So, it takes as long as I want for characters to travel from point A to point B.
Si'ara awoke to find herself naked in the same bed she'd awoken in before her escape, this time handcuffed to the headboard. Reno's lanky form was stretched out in the plush, velvety chair-arms folded over his chest, eyes closed-and Si'ara's clothes were in a neatly folded pile on the dresser. The bottom half of the window had been boarded up, but she could see that the rain had finally stopped, although the gusting winds still howled through the town.
Faint memories of the night before swam through her mind-the guards half dragging, half carrying her back to the house, being yelled at by the angry homeowner, red hair on a black jacket as Reno had stepped between them abruptly, speaking sharply to the man and putting an end to his tirade. At that point, she had collapsed, and her last memory was of Reno turning swiftly to catch her, pushing aside the guards as they tried to pull her back to her feet.
"We'll be leaving in an hour or so. Thanks to you, we'll be traveling by buggy instead of helicopter-this damned storm is too much for the lousy pilots Rufus has available to handle." Reno didn't open his eyes or move, just gave her the information in a flat, business-like tone.
Si'ara ached all over, inside and out, from her fall from the tower and subsequent near-drowning. She wasn't in any mood to sympathize with Reno over not getting a helicopter like he'd wanted. Besides, traveling by ground meant it would take much longer to get to Midgar, which was fine with her. This attempt at fleeing had failed, but she was by no means resigned to her fate.
"Didn't have to wait for me, you know," she pointed out. "I heard the chopper was here-you could have taken it back to Midgar without me."
Reno did open his eyes then, and pushed himself to his feet. "Getting stuck in a car with you and a couple of guards for a day or two beats going back to Rufus empty-handed." He walked over to the window and looked out through the upper portion. "It's not too bad here, but the storm's moved up to Midgar-it'll be that long before anyone can pick us up."
"Is Rufus really that bad?" She was curious about that-she had a fairly low opinion of Shinra's president, but she had been under the impression that the Turks actually liked him.
"He doesn't tolerate failures, babe. No Shinra ever has." He turned back toward her, and the thought popped into her head that he had obviously undressed her and put her to bed last night. She looked away quickly.
"Would you mind taking these handcuffs off?" she asked in an acid tone. "I'd like to use the bathroom."
"Not a chance," Reno said flatly. "You'll be in handcuffs until we get to Midgar."
"I notice you seem to keep a set handy-I'm guessing I'm not the first woman to wake up like this in your company." She wasn't watching him, and failed to see the way his eyes narrowed at her words. "Must be useful for keeping your usual tramps in line. I guess you don't want women like that wandering freely through your place, do you?"
She turned quickly at his footsteps, and stared up at him as he stopped by the bed.
"You know what, Si'ara?" He looked down at her, contempt glittering in storm-grey eyes. "Those pieces of gutter-trash, the tramps, hussies, whatever-you-call-them that I choose to spend my time with? They have more class than you do. Oh, they'll sink pretty low sometimes," he added, "but not as low as it seems you're willing to go." Disdain dripped from every word.
Hurt and hatred shot through Si'ara like a jolt from the Turk's EMR-hatred at him for pointing out what a terrible person she was, hatred at herself for what she had done, and above all, hatred for the tears that slid from the corners of her eyes before she could stop them. She clenched her jaw, stopped breathing so she wouldn't betray herself with a gasp or a choked-out sob, and turned away from him, just wishing that he would leave.
Footsteps crossed the floor, and she heard the door open, then slam shut. Alone at last, she rolled onto her side, pulled her legs up in front of her, and cried into the pillow, burning tears of rage soaking into the fabric and feathers.
It should have worked! She had taken him out cleanly, and had gotten out of the house and away. She'd spent the entire day hiding from him while he and his lackeys combed Junon, east to west, north to south, until there was nowhere they hadn't looked. He should have left before she tried to climb the tower! Then there would be none of this guilt, only relief at having outwitted him and escaped. She would be halfway to Wutai by now, heading for Yuffie and her irrepressible humor, or contacting Vincent, or in the air with Cid. Not here. Not like this.
And merciful Shiva, why hadn't he let her drown? She was in no hurry to die, but to be saved by him? For one brief moment, she remembered the look on his face when she'd opened her eyes, before he'd pinned her down and yelled at her. The way his eyes had slipped shut and he'd ducked his head toward her, arms tightening around her protectively. Protectively? Possessively? That was more likely, she reasoned. And any relief she'd seen in his eyes was surely related to his success on his mission as a Turk, not to her well-being.
Reno stormed down the hallway in a rage, barely aware of the guards pressing themselves back against the wall as he passed, terrified of drawing his attention. How dare she? He had expected her to snap back some derogatory rejoinder, some comment about his preference for the company of low-life scum and cheap hookers, not to look like he'd just punched her in the gut or shot her puppy. What right did she have? She was the one who had tricked him, fooled him into trusting her only to turn on him the moment he let his guard slip. What in Ifrit's blazes was she crying about?
"Fuck!" He turned abruptly and punched the wall, staring at it in abstract bemusement when his fist went through the thin wood. As he pulled his hand back through, a piece of it fell away, revealing two children with wide, startled eyes, looking up to see what was going on. He recognized them as the homeowner's sons, out of diapers, but not yet into cars and girls.
To his surprise, when they saw him, both of them grinned and waved instead of looking away. He reacted without thought, waving back, then turned to glower at their father, who had come into the hallway to see what his "guests" had broken this time. "Something you wanted?" he asked darkly, one brow arching up toward his ever-present goggles.
"Ah, no. No, sir." The man hurried back into his room, less concerned with any damage done to his home at this point than with his own well-being.. Reno returned his attention to the hole in the wall, and found one of the boys sticking his hand through it, delighted by this new and exciting addition to the house.
Reno grabbed the waving fingers, and grinned at the resulting squeal as the hand was quickly withdrawn. The interruption had dulled his rage, and the energy that had come with it was draining away. He found a cigarette and lit it, then wandered downstairs and out onto the porch to lean against the wall, smoke, and watch the lightning as it sliced through the grey late-morning sky, promising more of the storm that was keeping him grounded. With a sigh, he flicked the end of the cigarette over the railing, then headed inside.
Si'ara had found solace neither in tears nor in the pounding she'd given the poor pillow when it had gotten too damp to be comfortable. All the latter had done, really, was remind her how little room she had to move with her wrists bound to the bed-she'd had to resort to head-butting a bag of feathers-hardly a satisfying fight. Now, worn out, she lay on her back, pillow on the floor beside the bed where she'd managed to throw it off with her teeth.
She rolled over to face the wall when she heard the door open, but it seemed that Reno was in no mood to leave her in peace. She felt his weight on the bed, then one slender and surprisingly strong hand wrapped around her wrists, forcing them closer to the headboard so he could unfasten the cuffs holding her there.
"Get up," he said irritably, pulling her upright as he stood, "and go wash yourself. You smell like you fell in the damned harbor."
Si'ara winced as he let go of her arms and she found herself supporting the weight of limbs that had spent an entire night pulled up over her head. He caught them reflexively, then let go with a scowl, and strode over to the door, throwing it open.
"Bathroom's there," he snapped, jerking his thumb toward a door she could just see across the hall. "There's no window for you to break, and the guards in the hall have orders to shoot on sight. You have ten minutes, then I'll come get you, finished or not."
Si'ara waited for him to move out of the doorway, then stood, pulling the quilt around herself. She picked up her stack of clothes, and slipped across the hall into the bathroom. She wasn't quite sure what had prompted him to let her up like this, but she wasn't about to waste the opportunity. And although she wasn't thrilled by the thought of Reno undressing her, it was definitely a relief to have her own clean clothes to wear once she had showered.
The hot water felt good on her aching body-she looked herself over as best she could, and the side where she'd hit the water was more bruised than not. Other than that, she was just sore from coughing up so much of the harbor, and from having her arms over her head all night.
Well, physically that was all that was wrong with her. Mentally, she was a bit of a wreck. Reno's earlier words were justified, and she knew it. It wasn't like her to play that sort of game-she despise the sort of person who used their affections to manipulate others and get what they wanted from them. It made her sick to think that she'd joined their ranks. On the other hand, she had to do whatever it took to get away from Reno and avoid being carted off to Rufus. If only it had worked…
Reno watched the door close behind Si'ara, and went back into the bedroom to make sure they weren't leaving anything behind. He was ready to get out of Junon, and relegate all that had happened there to the past. Favouring the empty room with a scowl, he flopped down on the bed to wait out the rest of her ten minutes.
It had dawned on him while he'd been smoking that his anger over her actions stemmed mostly from the fact that they'd caught him completely off guard, and that he had actually thought for a moment that she was something he could have. She wasn't the kind of woman he was used to, and although he'd entertained daydreams-and other thoughts-about her, he'd never believed that she would let him touch her, until that kiss. He sighed, and stared at the ceiling. With regards to the fact that she'd used a kiss to get him off guard so she could attack, well, he had to admit that he'd've done the same, if he'd been her. It was clear that she was afraid of being taken to Midgar and Rufus for some reason, so he should expect her to use any means necessary to try to escape.
And to be fair, she probably hadn't expected him to take something as simple as a kiss seriously. He had a well-earned reputation, after all-one-night stands, wild parties, brief encounters in back rooms, nightclubs-anywhere two (or more) people could fit with room to move. So she'd done it to escape, not as a slap in his face, so to speak. He could accept that. The rest of the trip would be a lot easier if they could at least pretend to get along.
Si'ara was pulling her shirt on when someone knocked on the door. She opened it a crack and found Reno standing there, his expression unreadable, but at least no longer radiating disgust or simmering rage.
"Time's up, yo" he informed her. "We need to get going-we have a lot of driving to do today."
Si'ara nodded, relieved by his return to something approaching the Reno she was used to. "Just let me get my boots on, and I'll be right there." She didn't close the door, and he leaned against the wall outside, to wait for her.
"You alright?" he asked quietly, and she glanced up, startled. Thin lips curled in an only slightly mocking grin. "Contrary to what I'm sure you're thinking, I had the owner's wife strip you down last night. She said you were pretty banged up, but nothing seemed to be broken."
Si'ara's cheeks flushed, betraying the fact that she'd assumed he'd undressed her himself, but she nodded as she pulled on her boots and buckled them closed. "Yeah, I'll survive," she said. "I ache all over, and I think a couple ribs might be cracked, but I've had worse."
Reno nodded. They all had-there wasn't a single one of them who hadn't come near death at some point in the last few years. AVALANCHE's attacks on the reactors, the hunt for Sephiroth and ensuing chaos, the return of his Remnants, all had taken their toll. "'Had worse' doesn't stop it from hurtin', though," he pointed out mildly. "I can scrounge up some pain pills if you want."
Si'ara straightened and opened the door the rest of the way. "I'll be fine," she repeated.
Reno shrugged, and led the way down the hall, motioning for a couple of the guards to follow. At the door to the house, he took hold of her arm, nothing rough or painful, but a grip that made it clear he wasn't letting go, so running would be a bad plan. Still, she obviously resented it, and jerked against him to test his grip before giving up and following him out.
He opened the front door of the buggy with his free hand and ushered her inside, then gestured to the guards to get in the back. A couple more stood by the vehicle while he walked around to the other side and climbed in.
"What about your secretary, or whatever she was?" Si'ara asked without looking at him. "Leaving her behind?"
"She went back to Midgar with the chopper." Reno glared at the buggy, comparing it to his beloved helicopter and finding that it fell predictably short. "You need her for something?" The buggy's engine roared to life as he turned the key, and he pulled the door shut. "We have everything?" he called back to the guards, who replied in the affirmative.
Si'ara made an irritated sound in response to his question about the blonde, and turned toward the window. He made a point of hitting the button that locked all the doors, and caught the startled, slightly hurt look she threw him in response. For some reason, it caused him to regret, if not his action, then at least the spiteful way in which he'd done it.
"No radio." He scowled at the dash, hating the wretched vehicle just that much more than he had before making that discovery. As he left Junon behind him at last, he tapped a button, rolling his window down, then dug in his pocket, pulling out a slender metal case and opening it to reveal a tidy row of black cigarettes. Holding the steering wheel with a knee, he took one out and lit it, leaning back and taking a long drag before exhaling in the general direction of the window. A sidelong glance revealed Si'ara, sitting a little awkwardly to avoid having her bruises jolted as the buggy bounced over the neglected road. She had her head turned away from him still, looking out at the passing scenery.
Reno considered her thoughtfully for a moment, then opened her window partway, turning his attention back to the road as he did so and placing one hand on the wheel. He did so to make it clear that he was paying attention to the road, not to his unwilling companion, but after a moment he found himself maneuvering carefully to avoid the larger potholes and cracked sections of road.
Si'ara shot him a startled look when he opened the window, but as his attention had clearly been elsewhere, she returned to staring at the fields outside of Junon. The winds had died down for now, and birds were circling above them, taking the opportunity to forage and hunt. Watching them was relaxing, and she found her mood improving.
The first time Reno swung the vehicle around a large pothole, she thought it might be coincidence, but after he avoided the next few uneven surfaces, she was certain he was doing it on purpose. "Probably doesn't like being jolted around," she told herself, unwilling to jump to any conclusion that involved him showing concern for her. However, there was something she wanted to ask him, and this seemed like as good a time as any.
Reno saw Si'ara move before her hand touched his arm, but feigned inattention, curious to see what she had in mind. When she lay her fingers on his arm hesitantly, reminding him oddly of the gentle and tender touches he'd seen her exchange with the lethal gunman, Vincent Valentine, he turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow in query.
Si'ara watched as the red-haired Turk took the cigarette from between his lips and flicked it out the window, his eyes still on her. Taking a fortifying breath, she asked him, "What you said back on the beach, about Priscilla?" His expression didn't change, so she continued. "Did you mean that? Once we're gone, they'll let her go?"
Reno considered lying to her, letting her think that because of her and her betrayal, the girl would suffer the fate reserved for most who stood in the way of the Turks. Instead, he looked away, raising his hand to the top of the steering wheel, effectively shaking off her touch without doing so abruptly or blatantly. "You heard what I said, yo. Was there a word in there you didn't understand?"
Si'ara pulled her hand back, stung by the fact that he seemed determined to keep as much distance between them as possible. "No. I understood the words. I just wondered whether that was what the guards would really do."
"They'll do what I tell them to do, babe." He favored her with a sardonic glance. "I threaten people's lives and all to get whatever I want, remember?"
Si'ara looked away without seeing the grin that followed his words, and went back to staring out the window, shifting away from him in much the same way that he'd drawn away from her moments ago. A moment later, though, she turned back with a frown, figuring that if he was annoyed with her already, she might as well ask him about something else.
"Why did you shoot the guard?" It had surprised her, and she wasn't sure why. She had thought, after all, that it was possible he might shoot Priscilla. But the casual way he had pulled the trigger without even sparing a glance for the man he was killing had been a shock.
Reno shrugged carelessly, noting the sudden attention the passengers in the back were paying to the conversation. "Insubordination. Not something I tolerate, darlin'."
"Insubordination?" Si'ara shook her head in disbelief. "Is that the Shinra word for 'compassion'?"
"If that's what you want to think, go ahead."
"What else would you call it? He didn't want you to hurt Priscilla, so you shot him." She snapped the accusation at him angrily, but he heard the slight falter in her voice that told him she didn't believe her own words.
"Having compassion is one thing." Another cigarette found its way to his lips, and he took the time to light it before continuing. "A weakness, maybe." He said that mostly to see how she reacted, and was mildly gratified by her look of disgust. "Acting on that compassion? Yeah, I guess that for Shinra, that usually counts as insubordination."
"Punishable by death?"
"Made my point, didn't I?" He took a long drag, trying to restore the decent mood he'd been in before she started talking. "Got you off the tower, which you shouldn't've been on in the first place."
"You shot him to get me off the tower?" This time, she sounded uncertain, and there was a worried frown creasing her brow.
"Not the worst thing I've done in my life, babe. Did the pretty face and clever jokes fool you?" They'd fooled most of her friends, he knew. Cloud, Barret, that ex-Shinra pilot, Cid—they all thought he was a joke—a clown barely dressed in a Turk suit, usually drunk and chasing skirts. He'd heard the comments they made when they all happened to be in her bar, comments they knew he could hear, but didn't care. But he really thought she and the dark-haired ex-Turk she spent so much time with had known better.
"No…" She said it slowly, the frown deepening. "I know you've killed people, Reno, and…worse." She chewed on her lip for a moment, but something about her frown kept him from interrupting her train of thought. "I tend bar, you know," she added after a long minute. "People who are hurt, who've lost someone close to them, or who've been through something awful, they might not talk to their friends, but a bartender? They'll talk to a bartender, especially a woman."
For the second time in as many days, she surprised him. Looking back at the things he'd done in Edge, if she was saying what he thought she was saying, she knew enough to justify kicking him out of her bar and keeping him out, or at least treating him like dirt the way her friends did. Instead, she'd served him like any other patron. He kept his face impassive and waited to see if she had more to say.
Si'ara, however, felt she had already said too much. Costa Del Sol was a resort, and the Turks were rarely there on business. But Edge had been different. On nights when Reno had been at the bar, with or without Rude, there'd been no complaints, but there had been other times, when he'd been to the city on other business…
He'd never stopped by her bar on those nights. She had wondered whether he was avoiding it on purpose, because he was known to frequent the place, and it wasn't uncommon for someone to show up, their eyes haunted or burning with rage, looking around like they were waiting for someone. And as often as not, that person had ended the night at the bar, ordering too many drinks and telling a faltering tale of tragedy or claiming some right to vengeance.
She'd done what she could to soothe and calm them, knowing that whether they were right or wrong, they would never have the chance to avenge themselves or their loved ones. She had seen enough death in her life already—far too much for any one lifetime. There was no way she would encourage anyone else to seek theirs.
But she'd never asked Reno to leave when he had come in, either, no matter how fresh in her mind the stories had been. She wasn't sure why—she'd considered it the first time, but when he'd shown up a few days later, she'd served him as thought nothing had changed. Probably because it hadn't, she supposed. Reno had been an avatar of suffering and death since the first time she'd seen him. He was a Turk. With the exception of Elena, they were all that way.
In response to the questioning look he seemed to be giving her, she just shook her head, finished with the conversation, with talking at all. She leaned her head against the window and went back to watching as the scenery slipped from her future into her past.